"Chum! Down, sir! He just acts that way when he sees folks are scared of him."
"Oh, I guess he just wants to pal up with me. Mrs. Green, Mrs. Pratt. I brought Mrs. Green to see your cozy little home."
"You folks'll have to excuse the way the place looks. Junior's been in the house with the pink eye."
"I see. Here's a very sunny, bright little living room, Mrs. Green. Of course, you with your taste could fix it up so it would look very different"
"Dining alcove!" said Mrs. Pratt, crossly. "Get outa the way, you Chum. China closet."
"Ce n'est pas possible," Evelyn murmured to Hartley.
"Quoi? Pardonnez-moi? Oh! Je vwar," Hartley murmured back.
Mrs. Pratt let the swing door fly at him. "Kitchen."
"Mais je pense que vous trouvez que cette maison avez tous les convenances, Mrs. Green. Le—Le—electricity, modern plumbing—broom closet"
He opened the door, and a dust pan slid on to his head.
"Sun porch. Look out, Mr. Harrison!"
Something small and wheeled shot from under Hartley's foot as he clutched a plant stand.
"Junior Pratt, what did mamma tell you about leaving your things laying round?"
"No harm done, Mrs. Pratt; no bones broken! Well, sir, how do you do?"
